


All the venom is in my sight

by Keenir



Series: Learning curve folder [2]
Category: Norse Mythology, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Movie, Sigyn needs a hug - at least, Utgarda-Loki...only not really, sometimes we dig our own caves, the birth of Ullr and Narvi and Vali
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes our words make things better or worse.  And sometimes it is our fears and imaginings which drive us down that road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the venom is in my sight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Monsters and Men](https://archiveofourown.org/works/703414) by [Mithlomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi). 



> Of Monsters And Men looked at it from Sif's perspective. This is my try at Sigyn's side. (the italics are scenes playing out entirely in her mind). Yeah, Loki just can't win. :)
> 
> ps: dangit, Sigyn, have you been [talking with Iago again](http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/41/thinkingtowards.html)?

I have an enemy, though I still know not if she considers me her enemy. I am Sigyn. She is Sif.

I have Loki as husband. She has his heart.

And he has my heart. Perhaps I would not hate Sif so much if that were not so.

We were married when young, an alliance which only became a union when we were old enough for our bodies' maturation. Loki and Thor, sons of Odin. Sigyn and Sif, last descendants of the dynasty who ruled before Buri began the dynasty which includes Odin. Sif and I are each of a cadet line, the true heir having perished in one of Odin's wars; I am a day older than Sif, and that means that, if tragedy befalls all of Odin's House, I would be enthroned before Sif would.

Loki is dutiful in public, courtly in private, and when we take meals he always seats us near his friends...which is where _she_ sits. I am quiet and mindful and everything I am expected to be, everything a future queen is expected to be. _You would be General of my armies, Sif my cousin, were you not already my rival to his heart._

**~~~~~~~~~~**

_Our bodies rounded at the same time, with Sif receiving more attention and praise than I. No doubt the mystery appealed to one and all - Sif of the virgin birth. Supposed._

_We went into labor at the same time, Eir tending to us both, as her skills have always been that great._

_Mine emerges first, and is handed to me to behold. And he is a perfect baby, rightly-formed and of noble bearing as babies go. But I feel a chill as I hold him, and I can almost feel the proximity of the Norns' shears ready to slice, ready to defend - I blink, future-seeing my son standing atop a fallen Odin. I swallow, my throat swiftly gone dry; what I have seen is treason, an offense with only one penalty: execution._

_"May I provide assistance?" Eir asks me, at my bedside at once. She is. Not Loki. Not any of either of our families. Not a friend at all._

_I look the doctor in the eyes and tell her, "Switch the babies."_

_"I cannot rightly -"_

_"You know of Loki's deeds, he did them sane," I say, to which she nods. Loki's name is a bright one, a strong one for all that some whisper of ill luck tied to the name historically. "Think what I will do, stricken."_

_Eir frowns. "But you - Your baby is alive, healthy, well."_

_My reply goes unheard by all but myself and Eir, as Sif screams loud enough to summon fighters from all the Realms to unite under her banner. "Do. It," my words preganant with implicit threat. Eir may be personal doctor to Frigga and highest of the highest of her profession, but that seems inadequate to judge from her expression, as she gives me the minutest of nods. And she turns to tend to Sif and twinbirth._

_When Loki arrives, I am holding Vali and Narvi. Sif, sleeping, has Ullr securely in her arms._

_And still he goes to her._

**~~~~~~~~~~**

Loki is dutiful in public, courtly in private, and when we take meals he always seats us near his friends...which is where _she_ sits. So I smile and do what is expected of me - laughing at the Warriors Three's jokes, giving half-smiles when Thor speaks of Loki and I, and trying not to crush my glass when Sif takes a turn to toast our health.

I can let myself think that their friends - Thor and the Warriors Three - are ignorant of them, unknowing of what goes on. But there are those knowing glances passed from Loki to her or vice versa, secretive exchanges they believe that none see - _I see_ \- and asides where one grabs the other's collar in a crushing grip. I might have slept easier so many nights if I could believe it was simply longing or something unrequited; but I have never been so fortunate as for that to in fact be true.

No doubt he would say _her_ name during those brief moments in the night when we try for an heir, but that I swore him to silence. I do not believe he would say my name, he has given me no reason to think he would honor me thusly. And I want just one thing which does not bear the name of Sif across it. A lone possession is not too much to ask, I think. It should not be, if it is.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

_A pity," Sif says as we pass one another in the empty hall. I ignore her, I strive not to hear her, I - "But a novelty as rare as me, rarer - a cuckolded_ woman."

_Against all judgement, against an urge to flee from her predatory habits, I stop and face her._

_"He speaks of you, I should say," Sif goes on. "In battle, when he," and she licks her lips, one hound-tooth bared by accident or design. "Is it hard?" she asks me._

_"No moreso than your thievery," I reply._

_This fight was inevitable from the moment we were born. The skein of our lives has set us against one another. It is why we are fighting now._

_I will not give up. I can not. If I stop, if I call for an end to this - mercy, surrender - whatever word be used, then I would never hear the end of it. Not from anyone. Not from Loki, who never forgets. And certainly not from Sif his warrior, who would henceforth always have that knowing look in her eyes._

_There is an irony here. I cannot raise a blade, yet I will die here in battle. I can taste Loki's appreciation of juxtaposition on my tongue, alongside the tang of my blood._

**~~~~~~~~~~**

My body rounds, and Sif's does not. And still nothing changes. Loki is dutiful in public, courtly in private, and when we take meals he always seats us near his friends...which is where _she_ sits. And sitting there it is impossible for our ears to miss the news. All the court is atwitter with excitement over the impending ceremony the Allfather had announced will be held. Loki has not spoken a word of it to me; why would he, when it is a thing of importance. I have learned that when he opens up and speaks with me of a thing, some matter, that it will always turn out to be inconsequential. But I dare not tune him out, for at least he speaks to me of trivial things, which is better than being spoken to not at all - yes? I need not guess who is his audience when he speaks of important, weighty things.

My husband knows his duties and mine well enough that he would inform me - in however few words, or by leaving a choice dress on our bed - if our attendance were required, or if he were going to be anything more than an observer to one side at this ceremony. And he has given me no such notice.

So my presence will not be missed.

I throw on a cloak and make my way out to the Bifrost Observatory - Heimdall says nothing, while judging always judging and watching - and from there I go to the furthest place I know of: Utgard. That useless world won as a trinket in some bygone war; like me, drifting without any caring and always left to my own devices - and the both of us stuck where we are, for it would be too much effort to be rid of either it or I. What few soldiers are stationed at the Bifrost's lone landing site, they laugh at the sight of small huddled me, contained within this cloak. "Strange place to be, Loki," they remark, thinking me to be my husband in disguise. "Thinking of making this your new home for a while?" and "Utgarda-Loki. It has a nice ring to it."

Ignoring people is second nature to me - birthed of being ignored myself for so long - and I pass them by until I am well out of earshot, and I continue on and deep into the wilds.

Have I a reason to return?


End file.
